


i know you think about me...

by Isabel_Stark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ...but I love it, Accidental Voyeurism, Brother's Best Friend, Brother's Roommate, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I can't believe I'm actually doing this, Masturbation, Ridiculous, Song Lyrics, Teasing, a fic based on a song i heard on tiktok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabel_Stark/pseuds/Isabel_Stark
Summary: Sansa, a college freshman, somewhat unwillingly winds up moving into her brother's house after her most recent relationship disaster. Determined now to follow her own whims and disregard everyone else's, she finds herself not considering the distinct possibility that one of her new roommates/oldest friends might be passing outside the door to the bathroom as she explores her newfound attraction to him. What happens next, only time will tell.OrThe one where Jon accidentally hears Sansa saying his name and decides to finally confront her with the torch he carries for her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 43
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know you think about me in the shower..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so... If you know, you know. I can't be the only one here who has little siblings obsessed with TikTok. 
> 
> The lyrics used to inspire this fic are taken from STUPID by Ashnikko. Literally none of the other lyrics have anything to do with this fic.
> 
> Please leave me some feedback if you have the time! Love u x

Sansa didn’t really realize what she was doing until she was already doing it. 

Sure, she had become aware of the way that that Jon’s smile physically compelled her to smile back, or the way that her skin felt feverish anytime he even came _close_ to touching her, or the way that she always felt just a bit more comfortable when she heard him come through the front door after work. 

All of these things hadn’t escaped her notice when she moved into Robb’s house a month ago. They even made her wonder how long these things had been going on before this, and if she had perhaps been blind to the way he made her feel until now. It wouldn’t surprise her. Until her ugly, messy breakup with Harry, Sansa had had a pretty clear vision of what her life would look like:

She had envisioned getting married young, filling galleries all over the world with her paintings, and having two little babies that looked just like Arya and Rickon in her head. Everything was buttoned up, neat, and exactly like she thought her mother wanted it. That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? 

When her mother spoke to her for the first time after the breakup, Sansa knew that she had been fooling herself all along. Sansa had told her that she was sorry, that she had tried to hold onto who she thought was the perfect husband, but that she couldn’t stand the pain anymore. Catelyn had looked shocked, and then distressed. She had grasped Sansa’s face between her hands and stared into her eyes. Her voice was deadly serious when she spoke. 

“Sansa, the perfect husband is a man who would never hurt you. Whoever that is will arrive when the Gods see fit to send him.” Sansa’s heart had felt like it split and mended all at once. From that day on, she had adopted a new compass rose with which to navigate life:

_If it feels right, go for it._

So, when Sansa realized that the face in her head as she worked tight little circles around her clit was Jon’s, it only gave her momentary pause. 

_If it feels right, go for it._

And Gods, did it feel right. 

With this new realization, Sansa found herself reinvigorated in her efforts. While one hand remained at work between her legs, working swiftly around the pulsing bundle of nerves there, the other found its way to her nipple. Since leaving Harry, Sansa had discovered that there _could_ be some pleasure in pain, if it was administered just right. Rolling the rose-colored bud between her fingers, Sansa pressed a little harder, just enough to feel a delicious twinge. With her eyes closed and hot water rolling over her, she found herself able to stretch her imagination far enough to imagine that Jon was there with her.

In her mind, he had snuck into the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that they now shared and stepped cautiously into her shower. Standing behind her, he had snaked his arms around her, eager to make her come onto his fingers.

Sansa’s movements became jerkier and, unbeknownst to her, her soft whispering became louder, as she neared the finish line. When, finally, she felt herself peak, the sensation was so wonderful that she was completely unaware of her quiet-but-not-quiet-enough cry of ecstasy. 

_”Jon!”_

**********

For a moment, nay, _several_ moments, Jon was convinced that he was hearing things. It wasn’t far-fetched for him to think that his years of late-night fantasizing might have finally done him in. But no, he realized after snapping his fingers next to both of his ears and pinching himself. He wasn’t imagining it. He was, in _this_ reality, _this_ timeline, hearing Sansa Stark moan his name from the bathroom that he shared with her.

 _’I should leave. I should definitely leave and pretend this never happened,’_ he thought. But it was too late. Pretending was not going to be an option from here on out. Leaving, however, was. Barely. Just as his feet began to move, he heard her final cry and felt his fists and belly tighten unbearably. 

_”Jon!”_

_'Oh, Gods.'_

Jon sat in his room for nearly thirty minutes, imagining being dunked beneath the ice of a frozen lake, before he could re-enter the common areas of the house. He had, wisely, put his headphones in, and in doing so, had missed the sounds of Sansa leaving the bathroom and preparing for movie night. He couldn’t imagine how far back it would’ve set him just to hear her moving around after… _that._

But here she was now, her damp hair laying in waves across her shoulders and down her back, leaving dark spots on her oversized pajama t-shirt. No, wait… Not _her_ t-shirt.

“Is that mine?” Jon’s voice was deeper than he meant it to be, but he tried to offset any signs of nervousness by leaning casually against the doorframe. Sansa looked up from the microwave, jumping a bit. But when she met his eyes, her radiant smile seemed to hide something. There was a flash of it in her eyes, and then gone. 

“Oh!” She looked down at herself, even plucking at the collar of the shirt in a mock show of surprise. “Is it?” She looked back up at him, doe eyes wide and innocent. There it was again, and not so well-hidden this time: mischief. Jon felt his stomach stir excitedly, and lifted one side of his lips in a smirk. 

_’Two can play that game.’_

He stepped closer to her, bending down a bit. Just close enough that he could lean in and press his lips to her forehead, if he wanted to. His excitement feeding his self-assuredness, Jon grabbed the hem of the shirt between two fingers and lifted, pretending to look closer at the shirt itself. In reality, he was looking for a reaction, a sign. And, he got it. 

The moment that his fingers touched the shirt, her body tensed and he heard her breath catch in her throat. But, instead of swatting him away like she would have done only a month ago, Sansa stepped closer to him, leaving only a couple of inches between them. In doing so, the shirt lifted a bit higher, exposing a thin strip of alabaster skin. 

Jon, against his better judgement, lifted his eyes to hers. She was looking up at him, her face a mask of boldness, but her quickly rising and falling chest a giveaway to the exhilaration she was feeling. When she parted her lips to speak, Jon’s eyes fluttered between them and her dilating pupils. 

“I can take it off, if you want it back.” Then, her mouth settled in the smile of a victor. She had won this round, knowing fully that Jon couldn’t make any moves in the kitchen of her older brother’s house. He felt his jaw clench in sexual frustration and restrained anticipation. Sansa stepped backward and pulled the popcorn out of the microwave. The hem of her shirt slipped from his fingers. 

Without looking at him, Sansa asked if he could bring her some bowls. In his moment of hesitation, Jon saw enough of her ear to realize she was flushed. He grinned to himself. Setting two large bowls and one small one next to her, he retrieved the flavoring powders from a cabinet. As she began filling one of the larger bowls, Jon set to the other one. The energy flowing between them felt electric, and every move she made that brought her elbow near his practically made Jon jump out of his skin. Only a minute or so had passed, but it felt like much longer to both of them. 

When Sansa began to reach for the small bowl and found Jon filling it with popcorn already, she reached out a hand to stop him, setting it on his wrist. His skin felt like it was on fire. Or, maybe that was her.

“Wait, that one’s mine. I like to put-”

“You like kettle seasoning, I know.” Jon smiled at her. It was genuine, but it hid a scarcely-dampened fire. “I know you, Sansa.” His smile was sly, and Sansa found herself wanting to squeeze her thighs together. Nonetheless, the comment itself made her a bit wary. He thought he knew her, and that scared her. She turned back to pick idly at the other popcorn in front of her as he prepared hers.

“What could you possibly know about me, Jon? I’m not the same girl I was when I left for university.” Jon heard the sorrow and apprehension in her voice, and his heart tugged painfully at it. It was true, she had changed. He could tell, they all could. But, elementally, she was still Sansa Stark, the girl he had been in love with since before he even really knew what love was. 

“Maybe.” He replied. He saw her shoulders droop minutely at the response. “But I _do_ know you.” Picking up two of the bowls, Jon began to head towards the living room. He stopped behind her, just long enough to lean down and mutter lowly into her ear:

“And I know you think about me in the shower.”

The sound of her little gasp as he left the kitchen certainly didn’t hurt his ego.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's short, but I hope you like it! I'm not sure if I should keep going. If I do, the next chapter will be some teasing back and forth while they're all "watching" a movie.
> 
> I appreciate any feedback and suggestions! Do you want to read more of this?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie night, spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the comments on the last chapter motivated me SO much. Thank you guys, it makes a huge difference. It's short, but sweet (I think)! I hope you enjoy!

Sansa refused to look at him for the first several minutes of _Triassic Park_ , opting instead to stare hard at the television screen and pretend like her face wasn’t the color of ripe cherries. Jon noticed, of course, stealing glances at her from his end of the couch. He felt himself swell with pride and victory, but it would be short-lived.

With Robb and Theon occupying an ornate pillow fort on the ground in front of them, Sansa had smushed herself into the crook of the couch farthest away from Jon, trying desperately to control her breathing and her embarrassment. 

_’He heard me. He knows that I… Oh, Gods.’_ She was beside herself with humiliation until she came to an important realization: Just how _did_ he know? He had to have been right outside the door to the bathroom… Listening. The thought itself fanned the flames licking inside her belly, filling her with frustration and arousal. It was a heady sensation, too strong to think much on. No, she could only react. 

The reacting part was made easier after Sansa stole her first peek at Jon and realized that he had the smuggest grin that she had ever seen him wear. 

_’Oh, this’ll be fun.’_

Sansa pretended to momentarily fiddle with the reclining mechanism on her side of the couch before issuing a falsely irritated grunt and unceremoniously flopping on her back, throwing her legs over Jon. When he set an inquisitive, smoldering gaze on her, she carefully schooled her expression into one of mild surprise and innocent consideration. 

“Oh, do you mind?” She watched a muscle in his cheek jump as he ground his back teeth. It took everything in her not to fix him with a smirk of her own. He gave her a tight smile and placed one hand lightly on her calf, keeping the other balled in a fist on his armrest. 

“Not at all.” She did give him a smile, now. A small one, slowly morphing as she took her lower lip between her teeth and gently skated her hands up her body, dragging the hem of his shirt with them. She traced light patterns on her skin, slowly but surely exposing more and more of her midriff. Through it all, she never broke eye contact with Jon. 

She watched as his pupils dilated to an impossible size, as he wet his lips imperceptably. His gaze was darting all over her, like it couldn’t decide where to look. Pressing into the pit of her knee, she felt him begin to stiffen.

Her legs, mostly bare, were in Jon’s reach, and in a desperate bid to regain some control over the situation, he placed one hand on one of her ankles and used the hand closest to her to begin to stroke the side of her leg. This time, it was his turn to watch her eyes grow dark, to watch her mouth part in surprise and excitement. 

Slowly, his hand made it’s way upwards, every once in a while using a blunt nail to gently scrape her skin. The first time he did that, he saw her chest stutter on a breath. Their eye contact was red hot now; It felt physically impossible to break away from. 

When his hand finally reached the hem of her shorts, Sansa seemed to stop breathing altogether. When his thumb tenderly, _barely_ touched the seam at the apex of her thighs, Sansa startled, knocking her bowl of popcorn onto the ground. 

Before the clueless Robb and Theon could turn around and catch the unseemly tangle happening behind them, Sansa rolled gracefully to the floor, propping herself on her hands and knees to begin picking up the popcorn that had spilled. It was smooth, and the boys were much too oblivious to pick up on the red painting her face. Jon, however, was not. 

Looking over her shoulder at him after Robb and Theon had returned to their previous positions, Jon was not greeted with the sheepish expression he had been expecting. No, Sansa’s face held pure wile, and he felt his stomach drop at the same time that his heartbeat picked up. 

Sansa stood, brushed her knees off, and bent at the waist to pick up the boys’ empty popcorn bowl. Jon was faced with a full view of her perfect ass in her grey dolphin shorts, which pulled tight against her pussy. It became painfully obvious to him that, if she was wearing panties, they were very, very small. And “painful” truly was the right word for it, because he found himself having to press at his crotch with his palm to relieve some of the pressure. 

“Ugh, you guys are such pigs. There’s popcorn _everywhere._ ” Sansa continued to pluck pieces from the blankets, using any excuse that she could to continue to torture Jon. When she finally straightened out, she turned around to catch the tormented look in his eye before declaring that she was tired, and would take the bowls to the kitchen before turning in. 

Jon tried to wait a reasonable amount of time before following her, but it was probably less than a minute before he grumbled something about needing another drink and raced to the kitchen. 

There she was, again. This time, she was leaning against the counter, waiting for him. Upon his arrival, she moved towards him, slowly enough to grate his nerves even further. He remained near the doorway, wound so tight that he could hardly think. When she was close enough to kiss, she leaned in, and Jon followed her lead. When their lips were a breath apart, she whispered, her voice breathy, but controlled:

“Goodnight.” The loss of her as she moved into the hallway next to the stairs was a physical feeling of emptiness. Jon actually felt the vibration in his throat that threatened to become a growl. 

“So, you think you’re winning?” It was supposed to sound challenging, but came out of his mouth sounding more like a plea. Sansa, rounding the banister to climb the stairs, fixed him with a raised eyebrow and an amused leer. Her eyes flickered down his body and back up. 

“I think I already have.” Jon felt suddenly very exposed in his grey sweatpants, and very defeated in the best way possible. 

When, about halfway up the stairs, Sansa turned and pulled his t-shirt up to reveal a bralette that was really no more than a bandage and her perfect, still-bouncing breasts, he felt his jaw actually fall open. She giggled triumphantly and bounded up the rest of the stairs. There was no way he was making it through the rest of the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! I have an idea for another chapter, but I'm not sure if it would ruin the vibe I already have. Do you guys think that it needs another chapter, or should I keep it as is?
> 
> Love u so much!


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